


Transition: Three

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [9]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU.  Elijah, a successful escort working in Amsterdam, arrives at a decision affecting the future course of his life.  Part 9 in the Beguilement universe.  First posted on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/57093.html#cutid1">here</a> with reader comments.  Lovely banner there too by Stormatdusk.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transition: Three

Commuter traffic is heavy at Gatwick, typical of a Sunday evening. 

"Over here," Orlando says, hurrying Elijah off the main corridor towards the men's loo across from which is a bank of telephones, all currently unused. There's no nook in the area, not anymore, never has been in their lifetimes, not since bombs became an airport fact. But apart from the occasional fellow entering or leaving through the washroom's open cove, it's the best privacy they are going to get, and Orlando pushes Elijah into the L where two walls meet and spins him around, swooping in with a kiss that sucks Elijah's amused laughter right up and out of his throat.

"You'll call me," Orlando says urgently once they break.

"The moment I touch down."

"And tomorrow."

Elijah smiles and places his hands over those framing his face. "And tomorrow. Probably at least a few times." He stretches up for a chaste lingering kiss. "I want this as much as you, Orlando. I would hope by now you would know that."

It isn't as if the past week of Elijah's stay with Orlando should not have carved that sentiment in stone. They had not wandered far afield during that time, although they did try. After staying in Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, dining finely on Elijah's culinary wizardry and trying to watch a few films that ended up forgotten amidst the slowly building piles of dishes and discarded clothes, they had decided to try a club on Thursday. The music was hot, the drinks cold, the dancing erotic, and the repeated come-ons by other patrons annoyed them sufficiently that they'd escaped into the night and returned home. Each day, Orlando had made an appearance at work, but by Friday, his ass was dragging, and his colleagues had begun to tease him that whatever tail he was getting had better sort itself out before they affected an intervention. They pressed for details of course; despite Orlando's gayness being known, his assistants were largely women and they were a smutty bunch when it came to his libido. 

"I do," Orlando sighs, thumbs stroking Elijah's cheeks. "I've just become too comfortable waking up next to you."

Watching Elijah sleep is among the best things he has known.

"I've got to be on that plane," Elijah reminds him. "Let's go." They pull apart, Orlando slinging an arm over Elijah's shoulders, and they walk towards security, heads together to hear each other's parting promises, their easy amble light years from the agitated drama seven days earlier in exactly the same building.

*

Two hours later, Elijah flips open his mobile. "We're just connecting to the gate," he says from his seat, peering out the first class window to watch the docking. "Dom's in arrivals. I'll call you tomorrow."

There had been no denying Dom an airport pickup when Elijah had called earlier in the afternoon to set up a breakfast get-together for the following day. "I want to see you while you still stink of Ralph," Dom had teased, steamrolling right through Orlando's name into the nickname he'd saddled him with.

"Despite our best efforts, I will not be stinking of 'Ralph'," Elijah had replied patiently, winking up at Orlando's curious expression. "I think I need to spend more time with Dom," Orlando had observed when the call was over. "Not if I can help it," Elijah had joked.

Elijah is one of the first off the plane once the aircraft door is opened and quickly passes through arrivals to where Dom is waiting, all frosted tips and smiles. "C'mere," Dom drawls, open-armed, pulling Elijah into an expansive hug and snuggling his nose into Elijah's hair. "I smell the blood of an Englishman," he singsongs. "An exhausted, fucked-out, already-pining, _architectural_ Englishman. And, wait. Is that Paul Mitchell?"

"Aveda," Elijah replies. "Stop fidgeting."

"Up for a drink?" Dom asks, taking Elijah's garment bag. 

"Like I have a choice?" 

"That's my boy," Dom smiles, and they head towards the car park.

*

"I could eat," Dom announces as they seat themselves on the lamp lit patio bordering a canal. "Have you had dinner?"

"Go ahead and order. Calamari?" Elijah asks. "You seem particularly playful tonight. Wouldn't want you to be bored."

"No worries there, cheeky git." Dom looks up at the hovering waiter. "Two pinots, we'll each have the goat cheese salad and we'll split the squid. And water, no fizz, right off, if you would." 

Elijah deposits his cigarette pack on the table and pokes it towards Dom. "Help yourself."

"So tell me," Dom says, withdrawing two cigarettes, one of which he passes to Elijah, who leans forward for it to be lit. "Did you manage to fuck him out of your system, or are you in _loooove?_ "

Elijah's eyes dart up from the flame to meet Dom's. He sits back and exhales. "I would have preferred this conversation tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, that ain't gonna happen. You back out of returning a week ago, then blow me off for the next seven days; Ian hasn't heard boo from you either, so spill."

Elijah stares at Dominic, his smile inscrutable. 

Dom leans forward. "My arse is growing barnacles, mate. Is this fucking serious, this guy?"

The water boy arrives to distract them. When they are alone, Dom lets the question hang.

"I'm very fond of him," Elijah finally says.

"We know that. How fond?"

The wine arrives to interrupt them again.

"Very, Dom." 

There's a seriousness in Elijah's tone that sets Dom's alarm bells ringing. "Second-guessing fond?" he asks slowly.

Elijah's smile slips away, and he looks at Dom. "Yeah," he finally says. "Yeah."

Dom inhales slowly. Elijah's his best mate, his fuck buddy, his partner in crime. They've had boyfriends weave in and out of their lives before, men who stuck around for a season or two, some who were fellows in the trade, others clients who tolerated how they made a living until a time came when they pressed for commitment and retirement. The two of them rolled with it. But something about this Orlando, about how long he has silently scratched at Elijah's psyche when Dom couldn't put a name or face to him but knew he was there even if Elijah hadn't let on – something tells Dom that this is new territory. And now that he's paused to take a good look, it's written all over Elijah.

His heart begins to break a little.

"Dom," Elijah says quietly because he can see everything in Dom's eyes. "You will always be my brother. No one can ever touch that."

Dom sits smoking without reply, eyes locked with Elijah's. He believes Elijah means what he has said, but he thinks he might just hate Orlando right now. "I'm not going to ask you if you're sure. So what's the plan?" he finally says, the flatness not hidden in his voice.

Elijah exhales. He knows that Dom will need time to get used to the idea of sharing him in a way he hasn't had to share him before, and he'll do everything he can to help him get there. "The plan," Elijah says, "is that I need to go off the meter. For this to work, I need to step away."

"For good?" 

"For now." 

Dom frowns a little but says nothing. It's difficult for him to really believe that Elijah would put the last eight years of a very lucrative living on hold. There's never been any sign of Elijah not being satisfied with what they do, of ever voicing concerns about the future or unhappiness with what he does. Such an abrupt change for Elijah is proving rather surreal, and the man sitting across from Dom who'd always been so honest with him, always let him know where things have stood in their lives, has suddenly become somewhat of an enigma, and Dom feels a gulf between them begin to open.

"Dom," Elijah says, sitting forward and covering Dom's fingers where they wrap the stem of the wine glass. "I didn't see this coming either. I know you don't like what I'm telling you. I know that you feel I've hung you out to dry. You have to believe that you are more important to me than you can ever know, and not just because I need you to be on board with me for this. You share something with me that no one – not Orlando, not Ian, no one – can ever understand." He can see the stony rejection that has settled over Dom, and it saddens him. "You have to know that I am going to do this thing. I have to make this move. But more than anything, I need you to understand how important it is to me that you accept and support what I need to do. Even if right now you don't like it."

The waiter arrives with their order, but neither of them break eye or hand contact or give him any notice. The plates are placed silently, and the waiter slips discreetly away.

"Am I off the meter too, Elijah?"

Elijah smiles sadly and nods, squeezing Dom's fingers. "It's gotta be, man, it's gotta be. I hope, though, that you can still find it in your heart to let me cuddle."

Dom withdraws his hand and drops his head. "Ffffuuuuck," he exhales, running his hands through his hair before scrubbing his face. "This Brit bastard better be worth all this. I'll make no bones about the fact that right now, I seriously want to fuck him up."

"Orlando knows nothing about this," Elijah tells him. "But yeah, I can understand you being pissed."

In another world, Dom figures he and Elijah might have sailed off into the sunset, two old whores sporting about the South Seas. But he's a realist and he knows he'll have to find a way to make this work if he ever hopes for Elijah to stay in his life. 

"So tell me about your plan," he says.

*

Elijah stays at Dom's that night, where they curl together in bed, face to face, naked and touching, and they talk deep into the early hours before they each fall into an untroubled sleep. 

*

"I've met a man," Elijah says without preamble. It is the lunch hour of the following day, and Ian has made himself absolutely free to meet with Elijah over drinks and tapas.

"Yes, well, I thought as much," Ian replies as he presses the linen napkin over his lap, "given the glow emanating all about you. Am I to assume it is Orlando?"

Elijah tilts a puzzled smile. "Dom?" he asks. "Dom," he concludes to Ian's raised eyebrow.

Ian offers his glass in a toast. "Welcome home," he says. "Dominic is rather an old hen where matters of the boudoir are concerned. Your great absence was filled only by the sheer volume of speculative gossip issuing from his mouth this past week." They both smile at this. "So tell me, Elijah. How serious is this affair?"

Ian was not Elijah's first client, or even his hundredth. But he has become Elijah's favourite client, the one who has been a part of his life now for more than five years, who has nurtured and cultivated him into the man he now is. And Elijah has no illusions about the loss that Ian will feel when he learns that Elijah must leave his bed.

"I've been with hundreds of men, you know that, Ian. And some of them," Elijah stops, making sure that he has Ian's full attention. "Some of them I've grown to love very much."

Ian smiles softly. How he aches to hold Elijah right now, an Elijah who is slipping away. "Yes," he replies. "But."

"But when I'm with Orlando," Elijah says, "I never want to be with another man again."

"Ahh," Ian replies, reflecting back on younger years, _"une affaire du coeur_. They are very intoxicating, aren't they. Glorious feelings, really." He pauses. "Forgive me for saying so, but is this not a little quick?"

"It is," Elijah says. "It's early days yet, and I don't know if he and I will be able to make this work." He looks at Ian intently. "But I want it like I've never wanted anything else. I need it. No one else has made me reflect upon my life -- where it's been, where it's going -- like he has without even knowing that he does it. He's not pressing for me to do other than what I do. But I know it makes him sad. I know it will always be there between us until it ruins what we have, what we may yet have. And I know that if I were to let that happen, if I were to stand my ground on some point of pride or control, I would come out of this relationship thinking that no matter what I thought I'd won, I'd really lost. It would be a hollow victory, one I'd always regret. I can't let that happen."

"So you've decided to follow your heart," Ian says.

Elijah looks up at him. "Yes," he laughs softly. "Who would have thought?"

They are quiet for a moment. "You will be much missed."

"No," Elijah murmurs, thinking that Ian is referring to their relationship. "I don't want to lose you, Ian."

Ian's hand reaches across the table to take Elijah's. "Dear heart, you can never lose me. I never expected a beautiful creature such as you to stay with me forever, much as I might have liked. And that it should be someone as talented and beautiful as Orlando who finally has caught your eye, I can't help but admire – and might I add, envy -- the choice. No, Elijah, I mean that you will be missed in the trade." 

Elijah glances up as the waiter arrives with their wine. "I want to talk to you about that," he says.

*

After lunch, Elijah returns home. He settles at his computer after changing out of his suit and opens his email. There are several messages that immediately draw his interest, one from London, the other from his financial advisor. He's in the middle of replying to the second when his mobile rings.

"I have someone I think you should meet," Dom says.

"You don't waste time."

"While you and Orlando have been busy exploring each other's knickers, I've been networking."

"So when's he free?"

"Just say where and when."

"Let me check room availability at L'Europe, and I'll call you back. Does tomorrow afternoon work for you?"

"I can make it."

"Tell me, is he a freelancer?" 

"Maybe, but he's fresh off the plane, doesn't know his way around yet. I think we could sell him, both on the idea and on the street."

"And you couldn't say anything to me about him last night?"

"Nah, needed to see him, needed to test the waters."

"And?"

"A little toppy and unschooled, but awfully fucking cute."

"Where's he from?"

"He's a Kiwi. Manly type."

Elijah purses his lips. "Okay, it's a start. But you know what we talked about."

"Leave it with me, brother. I may have another better suited in that way."

"Jesus, Dom," Elijah laughs. "What else haven't you been telling me all these months?"

"Tit, tat," Dom says and rings off.

*

"Hey," Elijah says once Orlando picks up on the other end. It is a beautiful Monday evening, but the days are getting shorter, and light is rapidly leaving the sky as he steps out onto the balcony for a better signal.

"How was your day?" Orlando asks, checking traffic before he steps off the curb outside the Waitrose.

"I miss you," Elijah replies. _How long has it been since I had a chance to say that, since I meant it,_ he wonders. "And my day was good, better than I thought it would be."

"Anything you care to share?"

"Not yet. Are you free this weekend?"

Orlando smiles. "Yours or mine?"

"Your turn."

"I was hoping you would say that, considering I booked my flight this morning."

Elijah closes his eyes. _This is really going to happen,_ he thinks, smiling. "You're a presumptuous bastard," he says instead.

"What's going to be on the menu?" Orlando asks. "You don't want to know how boring everything looks now that I've spent a week with you." He hoists his grocery bag to illustrate, and grins as he catches himself. 

"I'll think of something," Elijah promises.


End file.
